Holy Mysteries
by VolatileSublime
Summary: A holy mystery is another name for a sacrament, which is a pledge to a higher power. Many of them are sacrifices of one sort or another.


**Disclaimer:** If I owned D. Gray-Man, I... have no idea what I would do with it. But, oh, how I wish. It is the brainchild of Hoshino Katsura.

**Author's Notes:** I'm not really sure where this idea came from. Really. I think it comes from doing too much research on the history of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, the Rosicrucians, and thoughts on the possible origins of the Black Order itself. In case you're curious, I'm… not too happy with the way this came out. Then again, I'm not sure I'm ever truly comfortable with any of my own writings. Concrit will get you cookies! Err, if by "cookies" you mean "my undying appreciation &hearts." Really. I don't care if you want to tell me that it sucks and you hate it. I'll take it!

**Theme Set and #:** Water, #3 - Sharp

"This is the symbol you will fight under." General Cloud's voice had a quality of coolness to it, as though she worked very hard for dispassion. The impression of hidden fury was reinforced by the look on her face, as if she'd like nothing more than to hurl the thing in her hand across the room, the hotel, the bloody Continent itself.

The cross' metalwork gleamed in the lamplight, and Gwen's hands lifted in starts and skips, wanting to touch, to feel -- well, as much as she could anything through those bloody gloves. She pondered just taking it from her master. The blonde woman held it out to her, after all. Finally, no, no, she forced her hands still and told herself she wouldn't. If Shishou wanted her to take it, she would have said so.

A drawn expression of amusement pulled Cloud Nine's face. Indeed, she almost laughed. "No, liebchen, it is yours. Take it. I cannot give it to you." A slight pause, and all the amusement washed itself from her voice, leaving the cool calm behind. "Just know that once you take it up, you cannot set it down again."

Gwen weighed what she knew already with the solemnity in her master's manner. The harsh set of the woman's mouth spoke of merciless toil. Her eyes whispered that death could seem like freedom after the sort of life this cross would grant her.

Yet there also lay a measure of freedom in finally embracing the truth of your true self. She couldn't quite make her voice work, with the mix of emotions whipping around inside her. As Gwen's heart began its strange, tripping beat, all she knew to do was reach out for the metal that so gleamed in the dim light.

"So you've made your choice," the General sighed, so softly that Gwen couldn't tell if she was happy, or sad, or... anything else. Violet-blue eyes crinkled with a sort of mischief as she took in her disciple's look of utter puzzlement. "Never mind it, Gwendolyn," she murmured with a slow shake of her head. "There are many, many things I could say to you now -- far too many, perhaps -- but I do not feel that they would ever be enough."

The dark-haired girl marveled at the intricate nature of the cross; so many designs, meaning upon meaning piled atop one another until the very symbolism of it could make one's head ache.

"Here, take your gloves off. There is no need of them here."

The General's words barely penetrated the soft wonder that enveloped her, but Gwen complied with a nod. The cross was juggled from one hand to the other as she worked the smooth fabric from her skin. It may have only just been given to her, but the words _Cannot set it down again,_ echoed in her mind, like a refrain.

...Or a curse. She shivered at the dark fancy, but as soon as she finished, she wrapped her fingers around it once more. The warmth of the metal made her intimately aware of its presence. There was no losing herself in it this time. Not with those terrible, beautiful eyes watching her from across the table.

"Do you feel the weight of it in your fingers?"

Gwen felt her face pucker into another expression of confusion. "Mm, Shishou, it's... not really that heavy." The most obvious answer, but she tired of her teacher speaking in riddles she hadn't learned yet.

"Not yet. A bond with God Himself does not seem so weighty a thing, at first." The General conceded the point with a small nod and relaxed her posture to lean forward against the table. She motioned with a wave of her hand for Gwen to come forward.

That strange trip-hop began in her heart once again, and a small tremble started in her fingers. She swallowed her nerves away and did as bidden, laying her arms on the table, her hands extended with the cross upraised on them.

"This is only a temporary pin for now. The real one will be sewn onto your uniform when you receive it." Cloud Nine's voice had taken on that pedantic, informative tone once more, and the smoothness of her face gave nothing away. Hmm, the way the sky sometimes could give nothing away before lightning struck...

Gwen told her damn fool heart to shut up. This was important! But something retorted in the back of her mind that important as it was, this was also gonna hurt.

The General reached over to pluck the rose cross out of her hand, never minding the nervous multitude of sparks roiling off of her disciple's skin. She opened the pin, and for a wild second, Gwen thought that her master only wished to attach it onto her lapel for her. Well, that'd be dandy, no problem at all. If it had been left to her, she'd probably end up with it crooked.

Totally fine.

Or not. The blonde General held the pin up with the needle pointing skyward. Her face was a mask of sorrow and old pain as she murmured, "Let us seal the bond, and hope that this little sacrifice will suffice in lieu of a larger one."

She flung her hand down, and Gwen watched in frozen fascination as the sharp metal pierced the flesh of her palm. All she could do was stare. Cloud wrenched it out with surprising gentleness before wiping it to fastidious cleanliness on the edge of her shirt. Her face seemed even sadder than before as she folded it closed and laid it carefully on the table.

"Solomon, please go down to the kitchen and fetch some hot water and rags. We've got soap and bandages already."

The only thing that penetrated Gwen's white haze was the cheeky-bastard grin he flashed her, and a quick wave of a hand swathed in bandages.

Vaguely she knew she was in shock, but she couldn't seem to feel that it mattered. Nothing mattered around this fog. Strong arms gripped her and enveloped her in a blanket of long blonde hair and familiar scents. "I am very proud of you, Gwendolyn. Never forget that."

Lovely, lovely, fucking _sublime_ to know…Too bad it didn't quite erase the sight of blood pooling across pale flesh and lacquered wood.


End file.
